


sarasota someone

by acrookedsaint



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Jughead POV, Kind of Depressing, So here we go!, based on johhny gallagher's 'sarasota someone', but we love angst, this is a songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21669190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrookedsaint/pseuds/acrookedsaint
Summary: no one even cares if i come or i go;but i hope someone in sarasota does.--a songfic based on Johhny Gallagher's 'sarasota someone'.
Relationships: Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	sarasota someone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veronicassadboi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicassadboi/gifts).



> for serpentqueenz (veronicasadboi) because i love you lots and you have gone above and beyond for me. seriously though, you make everything worthwhile. thank you for betaing literally everything i put in front of you. you're the best :)
> 
> possibly the first of many songfics, so stay tuned! better go finish my other wips first though ;)

_Waking up alone and then reaching for the phone_

Jughead wakes up one grey morning, in New York, the city where dreams are made. He feels the urge to call Betty, to call Archie.

He feels the urge to call Veronica. 

He doesn’t know why.

* * *

_I'm tired of living in a city where the winter’s so cold_

He can’t afford much, and the little he does earn goes towards food and other necessities. It’s winter, and he’s cold all the time. 

It turns out living your dreams isn’t exactly fruitful.

Or fun.

Or even anything other than simply surviving.

* * *

_I wanna pack a bag, I wanna hop a train_

Jughead considers moving back to Riverdale. It pains him to admit it, but his soaring dreams of making it in New York are something he never thought he’d be - unoriginal. 

It turns out that everyone has a story to tell in New York, everyone has a dream that they’re chasing. Jughead isn’t special. He’s not unique. He’s just another dreamer trying to make it big. 

In Riverdale he was special. In Riverdale he was unique. In New York Jughead is what he’s always been, deep down, what Reggie had always reminded him of, what Betty could see but denied.

A loser.

* * *

_I got to get down south because I got a pain in the middle of my chest and it keeps me awake_

Jughead has never thought he would be the type to get homesick, but every night he can’t seem to get to sleep. 

There’s nothing in New York to remind him of home. And yet Riverdale isn’t his home anymore. 

It’s not the first time he’s had the urge to call Veronica.

He’s sure now that it won’t be the last.

* * *

_And there’s only one thing can make it go away_

_Call her_ , the little voice in his head whispers, but Jughead ignores it, tries to focus on his writing. He eats cold pizza and watches bad television and tries not to think about _her_.

* * *

_I got to get to the beach where I'll be the man for some dark haired girl with a headband and a suntan_

One morning Jughead finds himself halfway through packing his suitcase, determined to drive down to Sarasota, where Veronica’s opened another speakeasy and made a life for herself, away from Riverdale and the demons. 

But he stops himself. He’ll be fine on his own.

He has to be.

* * *

_Nobody in NYC gives a toss about me_

But he isn’t fine. Betty and Archie don’t call anymore and Jughead guesses that neither of them know how to break to him that the inevitability of their relationship has finally come to pass. 

Jughead misses them, because he misses people caring about him. 

He’s not sure if he misses them for anything else though.

It seems cruel to say, but he’s not sure they miss him either. 

* * *

_Nobody can spare any love_

New York is lonely. There’s no other word to describe it. Jughead doesn’t know anyone, and no one knows him. 

It’s a harrowing thought to wonder what would happen if someone decided to rob him, to corner him in a dark alley. 

* * *

_No one even cares if I come or I go_

It’s harrowing to think about what would happen if he died. Would anyone even care? Would anyone ever read the words that he has written and think that they’re worth anything?

Or would he just always be someone with a dream. Just like everyone else.

Who no one missed at all. 

* * *

_But I hope someone in Sarasota does_

Jughead hopes Veronica misses him. Just a little.

* * *

_Going to bed alone, and I barely made it home_

Jughead is always tired these days. It feels as if he’s living in slow motion, never quite reaching that pivotal moment when everything snaps into place and suddenly the world is focused and bright again. 

He barely makes it onto the subway most nights. He tells himself that the drinking is to help him write - only those who don’t feel anything can make words sing.

But the truth, the real truth, the one he only admits to himself in the dark is that he’s lonely, he’s a loser, and he’d give anything to do everything all over again. 

* * *

_I'm tired of closing down the bar just so I'm not all on my own_

Soon, Jughead lives suspended, closing down multiple bars on the same night, doing anything to avoid going back to his cramped apartment with his cold, hard bed. He wants to forget New York and his dreams and he wants to go back to Riverdale, to bask in the feeling of Betty and Archie and Veronica and Pop’s.

But it’s not like that anymore. Jughead can’t go back. He’s stuck right where he is. 

Drinking with strangers doesn’t mask the fact that he’s all alone. 

* * *

_Sure I made some friends_

He talks with a lot of people trying to make it in New York, asks them about their lives, what they miss and what they don’t. 

It’s disheartening to know that everyone has the same opinions as him, the same dreams, the same thoughts. Even the same homesickness. 

He curses Riverdale once more for making him weak.

And he orders another drink. 

* * *

_But tomorrow they are gonna crawl out of bed and not remember me_

Jughead lives in fear that if by some miracle he does return to Riverdale no one will remember him. He’ll return to the hellhole of his youth and his shining high school sweetheart will look right past him because she’s found someone, _something_ better. Archie will smile, but they were only ever friends due to circumstance. 

And the Serpents? Well they never liked Jughead anyway. 

The only person that ever saw him for him is in Florida, living her dream.

Every day he spends in New York the further he feels from the person he once was.

* * *

_I had a good life once, but it fell apart_

Jughead does remember being on top of the world though, with his perfect girlfriend and his perfect best friend and his okay grades and his clear direction in life. 

But that’s in the past now.

He tells himself to grow a backbone. To stop wanting to go back to high school. He swore that he would never be one of those people - who stayed the same and wished for the days when they were on top of the world. 

Too bad Jughead’s never been very good at keeping his word. 

* * *

_If I could feel then I'd tell you that I have a broken heart_

He can’t feel anything. Maybe it’s the city, the smoke, the ever moving currents. He can’t feel his heart, beating in his chest. He’d be worried but he doesn’t care anymore. 

He knows it’s broken. That’s probably why he can’t feel anything.

* * *

_But I'm number than a dead nerve, gunning around a sharp curve_

Jughead has become a bit of an adrenaline junkie. He can’t help it. He lives for the feeling of the wind in his hair as he rides his motorcycle dangerously fast round sharp corners. He’s numb. The drinking and the smoking and the lying on the calls home to his father don’t help either.

He’s numb. He just wants to feel something. 

* * *

_I bite my thumbs to serve as an example_

Jughead’s fingers are stained with ink. He’s taken to ditching his laptop for a leatherbound notebook and crappy pens. It gives his fingers a workout, but he’s okay with that. 

It feels good to feel something.

His nails are bitten down and messy. He bites his thumbs when he’s thinking. He’s constantly moving nowadays, walking to fast, tapping his fingers on whatever available surface. 

He doesn’t know if it’s helping or not, trying to forget.

But he’s not giving up yet.

No one likes a quitter. 

_Veronica doesn’t like quitters_ , a small part of his brain tells him.

He tells that small part to shut up. 

* * *

_We all get what we deserve_

Sometimes Jughead wonders if he deserves this life - barely living, coasting by day by day, never quite reaching his potential. Did he do something to make the higher powers angry? Has he disappointed someone?

Or has he always been a loser, a screw up? 

But Jughead mostly wonders if this is what he deserves. 

* * *

_Nobody in NYC gives a toss about me_

Lonely. Alone. It always felt okay when Jughead had actual friends. It doesn’t anymore.

He’s getting restless. He needs change.

* * *

_Nobody can spare any love_

No one notices him. No one cares about him. Jughead doesn’t blame them, not really. He’s stuck. He doesn’t know what to do.

 _Call Veronica_ , says the little voice in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t. But he’s beginning to think that one day he will. 

* * *

_No one even cares if I come or I go_

Jughead quits. He’s always said he’s not a quitter, but he quits. He can’t take New York anymore. His lease is up next month. He’ll hang around until then.

But after?

He doesn’t know. 

* * *

_But I hope someone in Sarasota does_

He books a train ticket to Sarasota, Florida. It’s a long ride, but somehow Jughead thinks that it’ll be worth it. 

He packs his bag. The waiting game begins. 

* * *

_Cause I've got a pack of camel lights and a lot of time to kill_

Jughead smokes another cigarette. He’s had a lot of spare time lately. He’s spent it smoking and drinking and wasting away. 

In the end, it’s not such a bad life, living in New York and following his dreams.

Jughead’s always thought of himself as a loner, but he’s realised that it doesn’t mean he wants to be alone. After all, he was the leader of a gang. He’s always surrounded himself with people, he just doesn’t always know how to express that he doesn’t want to be alone. 

He wants people to know his name. He wants people to look at him and smile, even if they’re just passing him in the street.

He wants people to _know_ him. 

And maybe there’s only one person who truly does.

* * *

_And you won't be my accomplice, then I hope someone in Sarasota will_

Jughead steps off the train and breathes in the air around him. It doesn’t smell like smoke fumes or anything like what he’s used to in the city. It’s quiet, quieter than any train station in New York.

Jughead thinks he likes that. 

He turns. The girl with the raven hair is waiting for him on the platform. Suddenly he’s nervous. 

But then the girl smiles. Then _Veronica_ smiles, big and bright and true.

So Jughead smiles back. 


End file.
